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  1. #1

    ...

    Standin alone,
    a stand-in for love
    a meal of unsatiation,
    a supplement to an endless appetite,
    in a race without a finish line,
    devouring tomorrows
    until the dummys' life is finished.
    Oh mama why you fed me drama,
    Oh mama where is my home,
    My Sunday breakfast?
    I will make them for a stranger,
    there is no stranger fate than that.
    My back aches, my will breaks,
    but i will die dreamin of those fuckin pancakes...

  2. #2
    I'm the hotel baby
    The collective pain-baby
    That absorbs the maybe,
    the what could have been...
    I'm your lost baby
    the future maybe,
    the flesh of your kindness
    The face of your loss.
    My milk is my work
    The mop, the dishwasher,
    The rags, the desire to live,
    The desire to leave
    All that burdains my past
    The desire to greave
    All that burdains my last
    time of innocence.
    The desire to be a guest
    and as a loyal gest,
    to bring tomorrow an end to the sorrow of* travellers,
    to wanderers of mundaine mondays.
    I'm a cheerful hotel baby,
    I'm the harbinger of clumsy hope.

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